


I Want To Touch You

by poisontaster



Series: Transmutation [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ficlet, Multi, Polyamory, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-27
Updated: 2006-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-29 07:17:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5119778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisontaster/pseuds/poisontaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hunting and incest aren't the only hard parts of being in a threesome with the Winchesters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Want To Touch You

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Transmutation](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/153227) by mona1347. 



> Even when I wrote this in 2006, there was no way pregnancy tests took this long but I wrote it unbeta'd and under a time constraint, so I plead brain fart. Just pretend, okay?

She comes out of the bathroom and finds both Sam and Dean sitting side by side in tense silence on the edge of the bed. "Jesus," Jess says, wiping her mouth with the back of her wrist. "One bad burrito and you guys are ready to hold a funeral." She belches thick and fruity after that and her stomach gives a warning flip, but not bad enough to send her running back for the john.

Sam gives Dean a look that Dean returns and she feels irritation spring up jagged and fiery, making her pounding headache worse. "What?" she demands, voice flat. "You got something to say, boys, spit it the fuck out."

Dean elbows Sam, hard enough to make Sam yelp and he comes up awkwardly off the bed, holding a placating hand out towards her. Please. Like she's in any mood to be placated given how her belly's been rumbling. "It's just…" he stammers. "You've been sick for a few days now."

"Yeah?" Jess puts her hands on her hips. "With food poisoning. I'm not the first person to get food poisoning. And I'm a long way from dying from it."

"It just always…seems like the same time of day," Dean says, not meeting her eyes and scratching the back of his neck nervously.

"The same time of day…?" she repeats dumbly. And then the penny drops and she could smack herself. And then she just feels cold. "Oh. Oh, fuck, no."

***

If she wasn't so pissed and freaked out, she'd laugh at the speed at which Sam and Dean scatter from her side inside the drugstore, Sam muttering, "toothpaste!" and Dean grumbling something like, "deodorant!" leaving her alone in the "Feminine Hygiene Products/Family Planning" aisle.

"Oh, boys," she mutters under her breath, her tone laden with a promise of later violence and she strolls the aisle casually, making a big show of examining the different (boringly vanilla) brands of condoms on display.

She picks out a box for later—though she make them go double wrapped from now fucking on, depending on how this all turns out—and stealthily pockets two different kinds of pregnancy tests, which is not at all easy when wearing close-fitting, not-quite-skin-tight leather. At the register, she pays for the condoms and Sam and Dean miraculously reappear to toss the aforementioned toothpaste and deodorant—Men's Speed Stick, of course; she's given up on ever getting a girly brand ever again—into her pile.

Outside, on the street, she punches them both, just on general principles, and gets the stink eye from some blue-haired old biddy across the street. Sam and Dean must see her hackles go up, because Sam grabs one arm, Dean the other and then they're pulling her by main force down the dusty roadway. She cusses the whole way. Loudly.

It doesn't make her feel any better.

***

Back at the motel, she sends the boys off for food because there's just no way she's going to sit here biting her knuckles with both of them hovering over her shoulder making it a thousand times worse. Now that the ha-ha-funny knee-jerk reaction's worn off, they're starting to tweak again, which for Sam means quiet and morose and for Dean means he looks like he's going to put his fist through something.

Either way, she doesn't have the patience for it and she's got some freaking out of her own to do. Which she'd rather have her privacy for. So she sends them off to the bar, tells Sam to keep Dean out of trouble and tells Dean not to come back too soon.

Then she closets herself in the bathroom.

It's not like they're not careful. Just about the only thing they'll let her spend her money on is her birth control pills and even when she's just about falling down dead with tired, she doesn't forget those. It's not that they've even seriously thought about it—kids—just the academics. You have sex with dudes—especially two dudes at more or less the same time—you take precautions.

But she's thinking now, two sticks idling on the sink while she taps her foot in manic staccato, eyes on her watch so fierce she thinks laser beams should come out of her eyes.

 _Well,_ she thinks. _Mom's going to **love** this one._

She doesn't even really want to contemplate _that_ call. Her parents are pretty much on the edge of hysteria these days anyway and, when she looks at her life from the outside, she can't really blame them. She gets burnt up in some freak fire, checks herself out of the hospital before any of her doctors want and disappears on an extended road trip with the mysterious—and more than slightly shady—brothers Winchester, who are never going to add up to her mother's equation of "acceptable". Or even "understandable".

Doesn't make it any less irritating, though. Especially when her mom's sobbing and threatening to call the police for the umpteeth time like Jess isn't more than old enough to make all these decisions on her own. Like Jess doesn't know what the fuck she's doing.

_Though, depending on what these little sticks have to say about it, she might have a point. Maybe I don't know what the fuck I'm doing._

More foot tapping. Eight minutes. Christ, it feels like time's moving like taffy.

She lets herself take a moment to contemplate it; a baby. A little sweet-smelling person with Dean's freckles and Sam's hooker eyes. She imagines the three of them collapsing into a sodden sour-milk smelling pile, exhausted after having been up all night. She imagines Dean's smile, proud and bright; she imagines Sam's, quieter and more turned inward, but no less sweet. She imagines the Impala with a baby seat and one of those Winnie-the-Pooh sun shades and _that_ image is funny enough that she starts giggling, fingers and watch pressed tight over her mouth.

She hasn't given any real thought to _later_ , to _tomorrow_ ; there's always been so much to get done today. Learn this, haul that, bend, twist, hit, kick, duck. She's changed so much from the bouncing pretty college girl she was; there's been no time to contemplate the woman she'll become. And still, there's the black blot of whatever it is that attacked her, that killed Sam and Dean's mom. She can't bring a baby into all of this. She can't even let herself think too hard about it.

But maybe… Later, when it's just them. Just Sam and Jess and Dean, somewhere good, somewhere safe…

Her watch chirps.

***

Sam and Dean are quiet when they come into the room, almost slinking, tails between their legs. They both look at her, cautious, nervous and suddenly, she feels her throat closing up with her love for them, _her boys_.

She holds out her arms and they come, kneeling to either side so she can hold them both. She kisses Sam and it's deep and drags her like a riptide. She kisses Dean, and it's strong, and she can cling to it like a rock in the sea. "We're okay," she tells them softly and is enveloped in the heat of their exhaled relief.


End file.
